Control
by ArianaKristine
Summary: Prompt from the LJ kink meme. Graham has a preference. Hard M.


**Title**: Control

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Once Upon a Time or its characters.

**Rating**: M, sex and language

**Summary**: A prompt on the OUAT kink meme. Need I say more?

**Note**: Remember Shut Off, with its slow build, its allusion to things without really saying them, a build up to everything? Yeah, this isn't one of those stories. The LJ kink meme gave it a "rough" kink that I literally blinked at in surprise before realizing "oh … yeah, kinda."

Also this thing is a monster that doubled in size from the original so it has _slightly_ more plot than the first. I still wouldn't call it plotted.

* * *

It's never quite the same.

Each time is a little different. _He_ is a little different: the way he moves, the marks he makes on her skin, the growls he makes at the back of his throat that sends heat straight to the core of her, and even the way he holds her after like he doesn't want to let go.

It used to be that she preferred being on top. Having that control was heady, riding his cock in languid rolls or hard downward thrusts at her leisure as he marked her hips in scratches and bruises and his teeth scraped against her breasts and throat.

The first time had been like that. Something about the look he gave as Michael Tillman drove away with his children, the bright spot of _something_ she recognized from her own soul, had made it necessary to have him then and there. In the backseat of the cruiser, it had been all heat and passion and feelings that she buried down down _down_ beneath how badly she wanted him deep inside of her, imprinting her with the feel of him for days after. He had given her that moment, exactly how she had wanted it, allowing her to steer the way as she fucked instead of felt.

It hadn't worked. Oh, it had been passionate: ripped clothes, marks that wouldn't fade for days, and that addicting taste lingering on her tongue. But it hadn't been the way she wanted it to work; she had wanted the desire to ebb once she had him, what she thought to be feelings stamped down once her body's thirst was quenched.

Instead it only grew.

But it was _good_, tingling through her senses and leaving her shaking and breathless for an eternity once she came down from a countless high. Tongue laving her skin and talented fingers curling inside her were tempered by lips pressed to her forehead, emotion shining in his eyes … it was almost too much.

It wasn't too long before she had given up on not feeling anything for him. She had admitted as much to herself the next time she found herself sprawled across his desk, and even voiced it as she found herself wrapped around him one evening. He hadn't responded to what he already knew and reciprocated. Instead, he had shifted his weight and pulled her down on him, with a rough command of "show me."

It continued much the same after that, on any surface and any time they got away from prying eyes.

After the curse broke, she realized why he preferred her on her hands and knees.

It wasn't his heritage that made it so desirable, she knew, though that was a part of it. The wolf had always been within her Sheriff, and now that she knew he was the Huntsman as well (something he's remembered far longer than she's known), he allows it to come out a little more. But it isn't about the instinct; it's about the _control_.

Relinquishing that control, something she craved and sought so readily for the past decade, hadn't been an easy task. She swallowed down her pride and leftover fear to have it click that he had already done the same for her.

She lay panting amidst a sea of blankets, twisting and contorting beneath his touch. His calloused thumb pressed onto her clit and he leaned down to capture a nipple between his teeth, rolling it almost lazily before continuing in a pattern down her stomach. His tongue flicked over the bundle of nerves before drawing it into his mouth with a hard suck, and his fingers parted her entrance, delving shallowly into her. The question wasn't even on his mind, his focus entirely on her, and somehow that made it easier to make the decision. Her eyes rolled back, but she pulled his head by thick curls from between her thighs to give him the okay, to whisper hoarsely that she wanted to try it. It had been worth it in the end, so see the flames ignite and the black overtake blue in his eye.

He had never been allowed the dominance, not before. Emma herself had never fully given herself up to him in this way. To see how alarmingly well he handled it (punctuating his thanks with searing kisses to her ribs, tongue trailing along the crest of her breast, nails in half-moons on her hips) sent a new gulf of heat to her center, her thighs rubbing together as she anticipated how she'd benefit.

He had kissed her hard, catching her off-guard so much that his teeth split her lip before he soothed the wound with a gentle caress of his tongue. Abruptly, he tossed her around, sucking firmly on her neck and catching her clit between his fingers as he bucked hard into her.

The angle was _everything_, his thick, hard length almost painfully stretching her (_so full, so enormously full_). He thrust into her with absolute abandon, like her giving up the control had dissipated every ounce of it in him as well. She cried out, reaching forward to grasp the sheets between her fingers, almost ripping them as all her concentration flew to the feel of him splitting her wide in the most delicious way. She had been too near orgasm from his ministrations before, so she came easily. But the change in position and power quickly brought her there again startlingly quick, stars splintering behind her gaze as she fell forward with a sharp call, his pace unrelenting into her.

She gasped and quaked, unintelligible moans escaping between incoherent demands for more. He knotted her hair in his fist, tugging her upward to sink his teeth into the juncture of her shoulder and neck before he muttered filthy curses hotly into her ear that she'd never expect to fall from his mouth. She gasped, muscles tensing as another peak loomed; she shuddered as she realized she didn't know if it was the touch, the words, or the change sending her careening towards the end. His other hand ventured up her stomach, kneading her breast while pulling her closer to his body, her back flush to his chest. Their sweat-soaked skin slid against one another, delectable friction between them. His thrusts became erratic, shorter, and his breath increasing to the point where she knew he was close as well.

He came hard, pulling her hips to his bruisingly close, sending another round of spasms through her core; a long moan escaped him as he spilled into her, her own lost somewhere in a sob against the mattress.

He swept back her sweaty hair and kissed her neck lovingly as they came down, careful not to collapse on top of her.

Her breathing began to even out, tremors still pulsating through her like an aftershock of her orgasms. "Well," she murmured after a long moment, her eyes still closed.

He chuckled and slid out of her, drawing a low whimper from her lips. Carefully, he rolled them to their side, his heart returning to a normal pace between her shoulder blades. He curled an arm around her waist protectively as the other trailed up and down from her hip to shoulder. "Next time, the woods?"

She shivered, finding coherent thought still beyond her, but could still manage a "yes. Again. _More_."

* * *

End


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